


next year, all our troubles will be miles away.

by scoundrelhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Day 12, F/M, M/M, The One with the Dancing, bend-me-shape-me's SPN Advent Calendar 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoundrelhan/pseuds/scoundrelhan
Summary: Next year, all our troubles will be miles away, Frank promised them, and Dean felt for the first time in his life that that might be true.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 16





	next year, all our troubles will be miles away.

**Author's Note:**

> Extremely sickening self-indulgent fluff ahead. I am a sucker for holiday fics. Hope you enjoy! :)

Dean was a little bit drunk. 

Okay, so maybe he was a lot drunk, but it wasn’t his idea to put Sam in charge of the alcohol. Dean was basically drinking straight whiskey the entire evening with a spritz of eggnog after his idiot brother had his way. 

Before the drinking started, Dean cooked up quite the Christmas Eve dinner. Eileen was staying with them for the past couple days leading up to Christmas proper, and it turned out she wasn’t half bad at baking, so Dean granted her permission to help with pie crusts which was understood to be a sacred honor. Sam, Cas and Jack took up the roles of decorators while Dean and Eileen were in the kitchen, and Dean tried not to laugh when he found Jack covered in more tinsel than the tree.

(That was a good day. Two days prior, Sam and Eileen went to the mall in the city to do some last minute present and food shopping, which left Dean, Cas and Jack to go chop a tree down at a tree farm not that far from the bunker. Dean let Jack pick the tree, and Dean and Cas chopped it down. Dean tried to ignore the way his joints creaked from the effort. Jack was so happy, it didn't really matter how much Dean ached for the rest of the day. Cas rubbed the knots out of his shoulder later after they’d got back to the bunker, anyway, so it was a win for everyone in the end.)

Jody, Donna, and the girls showed up after dinner toting presents and food supplies for Christmas breakfast, completing the Winchester family affair. After everyone settled in, they played a few board games, which resulted in Claire and Kaia trying (and failing) to teach Jack the rules of Monopoly and Dean accusing Cas of conspiring against him with Sam to bankrupt him. Bobby called to wish them a happy holiday, and to relay his regrets for not being able to make it. He promised he’d come down for New Year’s. Charlie rang, too. She was doing Christmas with Stevie. She sounded content. It put Dean at ease, knowing everyone was safe even if they weren’t sitting right in front of him. 

Presently, everyone had either gone to bed or passed out from a food coma and/or Sam’s killer eggnog. Speaking of, Sam and Eileen had stumbled their way to bed about an hour ago with their arms wrapped around each other as they went. Sam was wearing this big, goofy Santa hat that jingled the whole way down the hall until Dean heard the door slam shut. It was a good look on Sam, the head-over-heels look, Dean mused. Claire and Kaia were sweet, too, even if they did gang up on him and call him an old man. Jody, Donna and the girls had also long since made their way to the guest rooms Dean had made up for them. Claire and Kaia had been the last ones to go, and Dean knew Claire had had a few too many herself after she gave him a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek before letting Kaia drag her away. 

Dean felt heavy, and warm, but he wasn’t ready to go to bed. Jack was curled up on the sofa next to him under a mound of blankets, fast asleep, as _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_ played softly on the TV. Dean watched him sleep for a bit, made sure the sheets rose and fell in the right rhythm. Cas had disappeared a few minutes ago mumbling about wanting to listen to music or something like that. Dean was only half paying attention. He had been too busy memorizing the way Cas’s flushed cheeks brought out his eyes, how his laugh came easy and loud after two drinks. The way his leg was pressed up against Dean’s at the dinner table the whole time. 

Dean blinked, and his vision blurred for a moment, making it seem like there were two Rudolphs on the TV instead of one. He always kinda hated this cartoon. Rudolph didn’t owe those assholes shit. Dean fumbled for the remote, and shut the TV off. Jack snorted in his sleep, rolled over onto his stomach, but he didn’t wake. Soft footsteps came from behind at the same moment, and Dean craned his neck around to see Cas hugging Dean’s compact record player to his chest with a precarious stack of records on top. 

“Dude, the hell?” Dean said, slurring, and wow, yeah, he was a lot drunk.

“I told you,” Cas said, swaying on his feet as he plopped the record player on the coffee table with an air of triumph, “I wanted music.”

“Well, in that case, let’s get some Frank Sinatra up in this bitch,” Dean replied, smiling wide and pushing himself up off the couch cushions.

Dean miscalculated his ability to balance, and ended up crashing into Cas. Cas caught him before they both ate shit, and then they were giggling like little kids, trying to stay quiet with Jack only a few feet away. Cas’s hands were hot against his waist, and Dean didn’t care how there was only a breath of space between them.

“Shh,” Cas shushed as he snorted out another laugh.

Jack sat up from his nest of blankets then, blinking at them with a disgruntled look, a deep crease between his brow. His hair was a rat’s nest. It reminded him so much of Cas, it sent Dean into another fit of laughter.

“What time is it?” Jack asked, rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

“Time for bed,” Cas said in an exaggerated tone, like he was attempting to manage some semblance of sobriety. “We apologize for waking you.”

“It’s okay. I think I’ll go to my room now.”

“Get some sleep, buddy,” Dean said, watching as the kid wandered out of the room in his bright green Grinch socks. 

Cas was still holding onto Dean, and Dean let him. He surveyed the records Cas had brought out. There was an old Christmas collection one, and Dean figured that was good enough as any. 

He had to fiddle with the volume, but then, Sinatra was crooning _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ and Dean’s heart was too big beneath his ribs. He was feeling brave from all the liquor. Or stupid. Same thing, really. God, Dean wanted to kiss him, but he grabbed Cas’s hand instead, let the other one rest above his left hip. 

It was new, this thing between them. It was new to be looking at Cas, and when Cas caught him, not feeling like he had to look away. It was thrilling, made his stomach churn and his nerves feel like exposed wires. Cas’s palm was as calloused as Dean’s was from too many rough hunts since he’d gone full human, and Dean gave it a squeeze as he started to sway.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Cas said in that serious way of his, squinting down at their socked feet.

“Just follow my lead,” Dean murmured, bringing Cas closer so they were almost chest to chest.

He was a little dizzy, still a little unsure of his footing, but Dean powered through it. He turned them in a slow, steady circle, and Cas finally stopped looking at their feet to look at Dean’s face instead.

“You look happy,” Cas said after another rotation.

Dean couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face, pulling at his cheeks.

“Yeah, Cas. ‘Course I’m happy.”

Cas hummed, and Dean tracked the way his eyes flicked down to Dean’s lips. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and blinked away the wetness in his eyes. Jesus, he was _not_ going to be a weepy drunk. That was Sam’s job. Of course, Dean was happy. His family was alive and together. Dean got to feed them, keep them warm, and tomorrow, they would all wake up and he would get to do it over again. And the cherry on top? Dean was dancing with someone who looked at him in a way he didn't know how to handle, not like he was just a pretty face. He couldn’t believe this was his life, that he was this lucky.

_Next year, all our troubles will be miles away_ , Frank promised them, and Dean felt for the first time in his life that that might be true.

Dean leaned forward. He accidentally caught Cas’s cheek instead, lips pressing into stubbled skin, but Cas pulled back. Before Dean could apologize or say something dumb, Cas kissed him for real. It was chaste, and both of their lips were chapped, but it made Dean weak at the knees, made him pull Cas all the way against him for support. They stopped swaying, and Sinatra phased into Crosby’s _White Christmas_. After a few moments of being wrapped up in each other, Dean pulled away for a breath, their foreheads resting together.

“I don’t understand. Why would anyone hope for inclement weather?” Cas breathed as soon as they pulled apart.

_I love you,_ Dean prayed, even though Cas couldn’t hear those anymore. _I love you so damn much._

“Merry Christmas, asshole,” Dean said instead, laughing when Cas pushed at his chest without any real force, and then they were dancing again between kisses and jokes.

It was just one of many, many Christmas Eves together to come.


End file.
